Been Here Before
by hydref05
Summary: The Doctor has lived in 1960s London before. Blink, missing scene


**Been Here Before  
****Synopsis**: The Doctor has lived in this part of London before.  
**Characters**: Martha, the Doctor (ten)  
**Episode/Spoilers**: Series 3, Blink (missing scene)  
**Rating**: G

* * *

"It's not that bad here," Martha commented as she around the small park where they were sitting eating their fish, chips and mushy peas. 

"No, it's not bad at all," the Doctor agreed as he ate another chip. "I always liked it here. Well, I complained a lot at the time, but I quite liked it, most of the time, some of the time," he frowned. "Didn't go out that much to be honest."

Martha smiled at the Doctor's rambling. "Hang on, you've lived here before?"

"Yep. 1963. Lived in the scrap yard on Totters Lane."

"You lived in a scrap yard?"

"Well, no. We lived in the TARDIS, but she was parked in a corner of the yard, so I suppose, yes, we lived in a scrap yard"

"Pity you're not still there now, we could get a lift home. You're not still there now are you?"

"Even if I was, we couldn't go and see me without corrupting the timeline. And trust me, back then I was much more a stickler for the rules than I am now."

"More of a stickler? Wow," Martha teased. "So how come you lived there rather than just visited for a while. Not as much wanderlust in those days?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I suppose. I'd only just left home and I was still learning how to fly the TARDIS. Plus, Susan wanted to go to school and I wanted her to be happy - although she may not have believed that," he added with a small smile.

"Susan?"

"Umm?"

"Susan? You said that Susan wanted to go to school."

"She went to Coal Hill, couple of streets away from here. These are good chips, don't remember that chippy being there before, must be new."

Martha wasn't that easily distracted though. "So who was Susan? She must have been young if she as still at school."

"She was 15," the Doctor agreed.

Martha gave him, what he had come to think of as the 'stop trying to stall and just answer the bloody question' look. "And how did you end up travelling with a 15 year old?"

"Couldn't leave behind on her own, could I. Well, she wouldn't have been alone I suppose, there were a few family members who would have looked after her, but I was responsible for her. I'd promised to keep her safe, so I took her with me."

"From where?"

"Gallifrey."

"Ah, right. She was a Time Lord."

"At 15?" the Doctor asked. "Don't be daft. She was nowhere near old enough to be a Time Lord."

"Weren't you born a Time Lord?" Martha asked.

"No. There was an academy, bit like your universities. You had to graduate from there before you became a Time Lord. Took a long time, especially if you fail on the first attempt."

"You failed your exams?" Martha laughed.

"Spent too much time day dreaming about what I was going to do once I left the place, and not enough time studying," the Doctor told her. "I passed on the second attempt, just," he added with a rueful grin.

"And I thought you were a genius."

"I am a genius," the Doctor objected. "Just not one who likes to spend 14 hours a day sitting behind a desk reading dusty books. I'm more of a hands on, practical type of genius."

"Which translates as, you liked to pull things apart and make a mess - some things haven't changed," Martha said. "And before you object, just remember the state you left our living room and kitchen in, which is the reason we're eating chips on a park bench."

"Ah, but they're good chips."

"They are, but we can't afford to keep eating out," Martha reminded him.

"I should have finished making the timey-wimey device by tomorrow, Friday at the latest."

Martha raised an eyebrow at that, "The timey-wimey device?"

The Doctor looked offended. "What's wrong with that?"

"Timey-wimey, it's not very technical sounding."

"Well I like it," the Doctor pouted.

"Alright, don't sulk. Oh," Martha bent down and reached into her bag, "Got you the postcard you wanted."

The Doctor beamed, "Ah, the finishing touch."

"A picture postcard?"

"The ink will hopefully limit the range of the egg boiling capabilities."

"Good, because just occasionally I'd maybe like scrambled or poached eggs for breakfast," Martha told him.

"Plus, it looks pretty," the Doctor added.

"Not to mention that it'll cover the hole you accidentally made in the front of the radio."

"That as well," he agreed. "So, Martha Jones, what do you want to do tonight?"

"I'd really like to go to the pub and maybe the cinema, but since we only have three bob left until I get paid, I think staying in in front of the telly would be a plan, and a nice hot bath. Please tell me there's some hot water?"

The Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver, "There can be," he grinned.

"Then let's go home." Martha stood up, held out her hand to the Doctor and pulled him to his feet. She put her arm through his as the walked back to the tiny flat they'd rented. "So, who was Susan?" she asked.

The Doctor frowned and sighed, "You never let anything go do you?"

"Nope, inquisitive me."

"Nosey."

"That as well," Martha agreed. "You don't have to tell me. I'm just curious as to how you ended up looking after a 15 year old."

The Doctor was quiet for a while, and then he sighed again. "Her parents died and she was stuck living with me. When I left the planet I took her with me."

"What about her family?"

"I was the only one she really knew. She'd lived with me since she was 11."

"You were related?"

"No I stole her," the Doctor replied sarcastically."Of course we were related. Why else would a 15 year old be living with a two hundred and odd year old?"

"Alright, don't get snappy."

"Susan was my granddaughter."

"Your... right. You're a grandfather. I didn't know. I mean you're older than you look, I knew that, but... okay then."

The Doctor smiled at Martha's stuttering reaction.

Martha was thinking about what he'd said though. Susan's parents had died, that would mean either his son or daughter. All his people were dead though, he was the last, which meant that Susan was gone as well. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded. "Thanks." They'd reached their building now, the Doctor rummaged in his pocket for his key. "Here we are then," he said with a false grin back on his face, "home sweat home." He led her into the house and up the stairs to their first floor flat. "You go and run the bath and I'll rustle up something for pudding."

"And a nice cup of coffee," Martha suggested.

"Umm, milk's a bit... well, interesting smelling, so can't promise it'll be nice."

"Black coffee will be fine."

"Black coffee and a nice piece of fruit cake."

"Your admirer?" Martha teased. Mrs Pritchard, a middle aged Welsh woman who lived across the hall from them, seemed to have taken a shine to the Doctor, 'such a sweet man, your John,' she'd told Martha last week after the Doctor had fixed her cooker and a leaking pipe for her - something the landlord had been putting off doing for weeks.

"Glenys does make a nice cake," the Doctor grinned. "Go and run the bath. Here," he threw her the sonic screwdriver, "point it at the tank for a few seconds, but no more than six or we'll be able to boil eggs in the bath. And I think more boiled eggs is the last thing we need."

End


End file.
